


The Red Suit (Arthur Fleck/Joker x Reader)

by orphan_account



Category: Joker (2019), Joker Movie
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-13
Updated: 2019-11-13
Packaged: 2021-01-29 20:22:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21416131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Please enjoy this little story I thought up. I had to give THEE suit a little back story! <3 <3 Any thoughts and opinions are very much appreciated.
Relationships: Arthur Fleck & Joker (DCU), Arthur Fleck/Joker, Arthur Fleck/You, Joker (DCU)/You
Comments: 10
Kudos: 97





	The Red Suit (Arthur Fleck/Joker x Reader)

You sat behind the cash register sorting through the box of clothes some poor old woman had just dropped off. Her husband recently passed, and she didn’t want his clothes to go to waste when someone else might be able to use them. Maybe there still are good people in Gotham, you thought to yourself.  
That was before you started looking through the clothes. Mostly they were horrible smelling, moth eaten, and sweat stained.  
“Ew, did he die in this shirt?” thinking out loud, holding the foul-smelling shirt at arm’s length, you tossed it in the throw away pile. You consider momentarily throwing the whole box away when you notice a bright flash of red.  
Saying a silent prayer that it isn’t as disgusting as the last thing you pulled out, you reach inside the box. The fabric feels almost brand new, and crisp like it had been freshly washed.  
Cautiously, you take the item out. It is a beautiful red suit jacket with wide lapels and cool satin lining. Excited, you dive your hand back in the box to find a matching pair of pants. High waisted, they had permanently pressed creases down each leg. Overall, it was a wonderful piece.  
Looking over towards the front of the store where your boss was rearranging the window display to something a little more seasonally appropriate, you quickly folded the jacket and the pants and tucked them back in the box. A suit this eye catching couldn’t be worn by just anyone; it would take someone with that special something to pull it off. And you knew just the person.  
___  
Arthur used to come into the store more often. It was right on his way home, and he sometimes stopped in to look for sweaters and cardigans. You always hide away the best clothes for him and give him a discounted price, even though you knew if your boss found out it would be taken out of your paycheck, or worse, you could be fired. But you did it anyway. There was something in Arthur’s air that made you want to act a just a little reckless.  
However, it had been sometime since he had come in. You looked towards the back where you were keeping some winter clothes for him. A few weeks ago, you had seen him walk past the store. He looked deflated; shoulders slumped against the increasingly chilly air. It broke your heart to see him like that.  
When you first met Arthur, and he had told you of his ambition to become a comedian, you were a little skeptical. He seemed shy and nervous, like he was worried what would happen if he drew too much attention to himself.  
But he was funny. Arthur always made you laugh. It would be hours after he had left the store, and you would still be smiling.  
You spend the rest of your shift pretending to work. Your boss left early like he did every day. To piss him off you go into the window and start to make little changes to the display. Your boss insisted that he make the display because you’re “not qualified” enough to put used clothes on mannequins…something like that.  
Please with your work, you look out at the street. It was raining again. As you listen to the taxis honk and splash in the gutters, you watch a familiar tan zip up hoodie pass the store.  
You picked that hoodie out for Arthur six months ago.  
“Arthur! Hey!” You shout banging your hand against the window. He didn’t notice you. Scrambling out of the display, trying to not knock over the mannequins sporting rain boots and itchy scarves you dash for the door and run out into the street.  
“Arthur! Wait!” You chase after him, yelling his name two more times before he finally turns around.  
Slightly out of breath you hold up your hand for him to give you a moment.  
“Arthur, I was just thinking about you today.” You say still a little winded.  
He looked thinner from the last time you saw him, but his eyes still looked the same, shining with the tenderness you remembered.  
“You were?” Even though Arthur was taller than you, he always spoke with his chin tilted down, giving the impression that he was looking up at you.  
“I’ve got some new pieces for you.” You motion back towards the store, noting to yourself that no matter how much you hated your boss, it would suck to get robbed. This was Gotham after all.  
“That’s nice of you but now isn’t a good time.” Arthur anxiously rubbed his shoulder.  
“Please?” You ask reaching your arm around him, guiding him towards the store. “It’ll take five minutes.”  
He said again that it wasn’t a good time but smiled and didn’t put up any resistance as you dragged him along with you.  
Back in the store you lock the doors and flip the open sign to closed. You’re so excited to show Arthur the suit and you don’t want to be bothered.  
He mindlessly pokes through some sweaters near the cash register.  
“No, no.” You say pulling him away and towards the dressing room. “I’ve got something much more exciting than those dusty old sweaters.”  
Arthur smiles sheepishly at you: “But I like dusty old sweaters.”  
“Yes, I know, but I promise you’ll like what I picked out even better.”  
Running to the back you pull the suit out of the box.  
“Close your eyes!” You demand sticking your head out of the back room to be sure he complied.  
You walk up behind him, holding the suit across your outstretched arms like a holy relic.  
“Do you trust me?” You ask, forcing him to wait just a little longer.  
“Yes.”  
“Are you sure? Because as your personal stylist I need to know you trust me completely.” You tease.  
“Yes!” You can hear the smile in his voice, so you finally let him turn around.  
You wish you could capture the look on his face as he gazes down at the suit.  
“You saw this and thought of me?” He asked letting out a few little nervous laughs. Feeling worried that he might think you’re doing this to make fun of him, you rush to reassure Arthur of your sincerity.  
“Arthur, baby! Did I not just ask for trust? It takes a special kind of man to pull off a suit like this. Besides, I thought you could wear it during your comedy sets. You still do comedy right?”  
The fear on his face is replaced with pure joy. “You remember I want to be a comedian?”  
“Of course! Now go try this on!” You open the curtain to the dressing room and gently nudge him inside.  
___  
Arthur re-emerged looking absolutely delightful. He wore a wicked grin that told you he knew he looked good too.  
“It fits!” You say clasping your hands together, mostly in an attempt to stop yourself from grabbing him.  
Arthur was looking at himself in the mirror momentarily lost in his own world. He shifted on his feet, doing a little dance before turning to look at you. You can’t quite put your finger on it but something about the set of his shoulders and the look in his eye—he suddenly seems different.  
“Well? What do you think?” You ask, already knowing the answer.  
Arthur nods and whispers “I love it.”  
“Good, it’s yours.” You walk to the cash register and pull a bag from underneath the counter.  
“Well how much is it?” He asks, turning back to look at himself in the mirror.  
“A smile?” You say winking at him as he catches your eyes in the mirror.  
“No really? How much?”  
“Really Arthur. Seeing you like this is payment enough. The suit looks like it was made for you, so please. Take it.”  
“Won’t you get in trouble?”  
You wave the question away with your hand as you cross back over to him. You hand him the bag.  
“Why are you being so nice to me?” The confidence in his face gone, Arthur suddenly looks as defeated as he did when you saw him passing on the street. He picks at the bag, the cheap plastic ripping under his fingers.  
You reach out a hand to softly rub his shoulder.  
“Don’t take this the wrong way Arthur, but it looks like you’ve had a rough few weeks.” He opens his mouth to protest, or counter but you cut him off. “And when I’ve had a rough few weeks, I like to change up my look. It helps me to feel…fresh. New! Like I’ve recently been thinking about getting bangs.”  
You word vomit about the terrible few days you’ve had, as you worry that you might have offended him. After a few moments he finally responds.  
“Please don’t get bangs.”  
You laugh and gently shove him with your hand.  
“Well, we can focus on my new look after we get yours sorted. So okay? A new look to let the bastards know they can’t keep you down?” You look up at him as he gives himself a final once over in the mirror.  
___  
After Arthur left that day you hoped that what you had said had helped. You were bad at giving advice but what you said had been true, there was something very therapeutic about changing up your look.  
A few days later, you sit in the back room counting down the cash register. You hear the front door open. I thought I locked that you think to yourself as your heart skips a beat.  
“Hello?” You yell towards the front. “We’re closed!”  
“You won’t make an exception, even for me?”  
The voice was familiar. You grab the baseball bat your boss keeps for times like these and slowly walk into the store front.  
Gasping at what you find, you drop the bat, which loudly bounces and rolls off the cheap linoleum.  
In front of you stands Arthur. He is wearing the red suit paired with a yellow vest and a cobalt blue button down. His hair is slicked back and bright green. But most shocking, his face is painted in stark white clown makeup.  
“Arthur, when I said switch up your look…” you trail off because he actually looks good. He is smiling widely, the end of a cigarette hanging from his lips. His green eyes shine mischievously through the blue triangles.  
“Surprised?” He asks, flicking the cigarette away.  
“Very.” You look him up and down. His whole demeanor changed, the way he stood screamed confidence. You had to admit, the look really worked for you. You always found Arthur cute, but this was something different.  
You jump to sit on the register counter as an attempt to focus on something other than the man in front of you.  
Arthur walks towards you, his steps bouncy and light. He looks like he is dancing across the room.  
“I thought you would want to see me before I went on, to give me your stamp of approval.” He said stopping just in front of your knees.  
“On where?” You ask breathlessly, the proximity of his body causing your heartbeat to speed up, and your lower stomach grow warm.  
“Do you watch Murray Franklin?”  
You nodded yes.  
“I’m going to be on tonight.”  
Before you can tell him how excited you are for him, he puts his hands on your knees and slowly rubs up your legs. Reaching your waist, he pulls you the edge of the counter, one hand resting on your back, the other reaching up to gently hold the nape of your neck.  
You slowly breath out of your nose. Looking up at him, you spread your legs. Grabbing the sides of his open jacket you tug him closer, his hips fitting comfortably flush against yours.  
“Do you want me to kiss you?” He asks, licking his red lips, you watch his tongue in fascination.  
“Yes.” You tilt your face up towards his.  
“Do you want me to fuck you?” He asks, moving his hand from your back to your leg again, his thumb rubbing a circle on your inner thigh.  
You surprise yourself as you whisper, “yes” and you anticipate the feeling of his lips on yours.  
Instead Arthur laughs and takes a step back.  
“You should really watch Murray Franklin tonight.” He commands.  
And with that, he turns on his heel and leaves you, wet, mouth open wide sitting on the counter. You let out a sigh and watch as the baseball bat rolls back and forth, slowly to a stop.


End file.
